Bittersweet
by Dreamer Dreaming of a Dream
Summary: "As I lay in this bed, bittersweet is what I think when I think of you, and only you." Dean/OC one-shot.


Bittersweet Dreams

Summary: "As I lay in this bed, bittersweet is what I think when I think of you, and only you." Dean/OC one-shot.

* * *

His dark green eyes stared back at him through the mirror, his hands clamped down on the edges of the white porcelain sink as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He closed his eyes, his lungs breathing out a shaky sigh. He could feel the foreign burning sensation behind his eyelids as he felt his throat constrict. His hands tightened around the edges of the sink. He pushed down the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed down the silent sob and covered it up with a cough.

A knock on the bathroom door startled him. "Dean?" It was Lisa's voice that fluttered through the piece of wood. "Are you alright?" Her voice was filled with concern and Dean –for a second in time– was reminded of how _she_ would be concerned and ask him if his stupid ass was okay.

He put on a fake smile and wiped away the tears that weren't even there to begin with and answered with a, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'll be in bed in just a moment."

"Okay." She had said and it made his heart thump in regret because he knew she had a smile on her face. A smile that he had seen a hundred times when she talked to or saw him. One that showed how much that she loved him. And the reason why he was being regretful was because he didn't love her, she was just filling that God forsaken hole _she_ had left. And everyday, Dean damned _her_ and hoped that _she_ was rotting in Hell.

But–

He knew, even for him, he never meant any of it. He saw the anguish that she felt every second of the day through dark, brown eyes. He observed the way she carried herself, the way how she wouldn't get close to anyone. She wanted to protect herself from feeling anything –because she thought that letting yourself get close to anybody will break you someday. It always made him mad when she would treat him and Sam like they didn't even matter. It pissed him off to no end that when she made a sarcastic reply, pain would reflect in her eyes. It was like she was afraid of something.

And she was.

But she didn't let herself show it around him, Sam, or Bobby –not even Castiel and Gabriel. It was just the way she was. And no matter how much they argued, she wasn't going to change.

Why did he ever fall in love with the stupid bitch in the first place?

Breathing a heavy sigh, he turned on some cold water and splashed his face with it, wiping away something that might've gave away anything to make Lisa ask if he was okay or anything of that sort. Wiping away the transparent liquid off of his face, he opened the door, turned off the light, and left the bathroom, heading to bed. But preceding to do that, he did his nightly routine. He looked out the windows, making sure nothing was hiding in the shadows. He checked the door, making sure that it was locked before he seemed somewhat satisfied and soon found his feet guiding him to the bedroom that he shared with Lisa.

She was already asleep as he climbed in quietly, making sure not to disturb her from her slumber. He laid there for a note of time, just staring up at the plain white ceiling. He felt his eyelids getting heavy and he made no move to stop them from closing. He let the darkness consume him, pulling him into the realm of sleep. There, he saw nothing but the dark, and felt nothing but the claws of his past demons wrapping around him, drowning him into the inky waters of nightmares. He couldn't move, he had tried prior to this and it never worked before. So why does he have to now? What will it change?

But then something happened. The claws –that were sunk deep into his shoulders– were gone, the shadowy waters losing there color, turning into a soft, moderate sea-green blue. The nothingness that cloaked the sky was rolling away and in place of it was a bright, blue sky, a golden sun, and white, feathery clouds. He bounded out of the water, feeling it retract it's soft caress and walked in the soft, green grass that covered the ground.

He looked around, feeling a sense of relief flooding his physique. The atmosphere around him was lighter, feeling the tranquility of this place surrounding him a blanket of security.

"Dean?" He froze, his muscles tightening underneath his skin. His eyes were wide and firmly planted on the ground in front of him, not looking up to address the voice. That voice... It was impossible to forget. _Ever_. It was just too unmistakable to ever forget or to ever misplace. It was unyielding, yet soft. It was powerful, yet kind. It was intrepidly, yet scared. It was all those things wrapped into one. How could he forget that voice?

It did –after all– belong to _her_.

"Dean?" She whispered again, her footsteps light as they came to stop behind him. He could feel her form behind him, feel her heat radiating off her.

But how?

He slowly turned around, looking into her dark eyes as she looked into his green orbs. She hasn't changed a bit, he noted. Her skin still had that dark tan, her lips were still chapped, the small scar that occupied on her left cheek was still there. Her blank expression was soft, her eyes swimming with emotions that were quickly flicking through her dark orbs that he couldn't name each one. But then, all that was gone within a second, the stone-hard façade masked her face. The look she gave him everyday was put back on, making a small tick of irritation flick him in the forehead.

"Why in God's name am I here?" She asked, her voice have a twinge of anger to it.

Inside he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and throw her to ground, pinning her down and just scream at her at how much she was a stupid bitch.

He hated her.

He hated her.

He hated her with a burning passion.

He hated her so much that he actually loved her.

"Don't tell me I'm in one of your porn-filled dreams, you sick-o." She commented, scoffing at him. She rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest, making his eyes dance down her form. She wore a plain white shirt and grey sweatpants. She was barefoot, letting her toes tangle in the grass underneath them. He still hadn't said anything yet. I mean, the poor guy was shocked to see her. In one of his dreams nonetheless! There had to be a reason as to why she was here.

"Alex." He acknowledged, finally finding his voice as he watched her solid expression soften. The smallest of smiles appeared on her face as she shook her head at him.

"It's been a while, eh Winchester?"

He nodded, smirking a bit in return. "Yeah, it has."

She chuckled quietly, bringing her fist up and punching him lightly in the chest, letting her balled up hand stay there, letting his familiar warmth fill her. As she was about to retract her fist, the taller male grabbed it, letting his fingers curl around her small, smooth –compared to his– fingers, letting the alienated feeling of her skin against his, throng a feeling in him that hasn't been there ever since she–

"Dean." Vulnerability shown clearly in her eyes, her cheeks reddening. Arrogance rushed through his persona and he grew more bold, grabbing her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, pressing her chest to his. She stiffened under his hot skin, hearing his heart's steady beating drumming in his chest. A shiver ran down her spine, making a content sigh dart from her lips, letting her head snuggle into the spot where neck met shoulder.

His nose was buried in her dark hair, a genuine smile gracing his lips as the smell of green apples robed his sense of smell. His muscular arms tightened around her frame, letting out a pleased puff of air. He felt her hands straying up to rest on his chest, rubbing little patterns in his torso.

"Jeez Dean, didn't realize you missed me so much." She raised her head to look at him –and with her being so close, he could see an arrogant smirk on her face.

He smirked back, his hands wandering down to cradle her hips. "Nawh, not really. But it seems that your life is a bore without me, uh?" He asked, his green eyes making her pause momentarily and just look at him, dragging her fingers up to his face and trace it.

"Yeah." She didn't notice what she had said, for she was too entranced by his features to even hear what he asked properly.

His eyes closed as he let her fingers feel the skin under his eyes, her thumb soon lingering on his bottom lip. She chuckled quietly. "Cupid bow lips, Winchester. Cupi-"

She stopped as chapped lips slammed roughly into hers, making her lose her balance and falling to the ground, Dean landing on top of her, their lips disconnecting as they were in the air for a second before Dean reconnected them, his body pinning her down on the ground. She didn't move so he kissed her harder, finally feeling her lips relax and started dancing with his.

For so long, he has wanted to do this. To do just feel her lips on his. To feel her body under his. To feel her hands tangle in his bronze hair. To hear the small noises of approval and knowing that he was the one causing them. He saw the way she kissed other men –for information, of course– and in a pitiful way, he felt the green monster rise within him and tick him off to no end. It was always there. When other men looked at her in a way that he looked at other women, he would turn away and swallow down his anger. But he wanted Alex, not some bimbo that you see hanging around a bar.

Every time he had sex with a another woman –who's name escapes him– he would have to imagine that it was her, but he had to make sure that he didn't groan out her name. He would sometimes imagine –after having sex with an unknown woman and laying in bed, staring up the ceiling with an arm curled up behind his head and the other on his stomach– what it would be like to have Alex writhing underneath him. What kind of sounds would she make? How did she look after sex? With tangled hair, swollen lips, and love bites covering her body, he would always close his eyes and give out a silent groan in approval.

But now, he had her pinned. His lips ravishing hers, soon traveling down to her jawline and to the hollow of her neck. He felt the vibration of moan come from her, smirking cockily. His ego grew with each sound that came from her, because he knew that he was making those sounds exit out of her chest and out to his ears.

"Dean." She breathed, pulling his head up to meet her lips again.

But this kiss was different.

While the first one was passionate and rough, this one was soft, sweet, and said things that were never spoken between the two.

And it made him wonder what was going to happen next.

She pulled away first, searching his eyes –that were probably full of lust as hers were– for something and smiled softly at him.

That smile.

Soft.

Sweet.

Regretful.

Sorrowful.

And with that one smile, she pulled the strings of his heart.

"_I love you._" She whispered, tears spilling from her eyes as darkness confined everything around them. It swallowed her so quickly, that he didn't have time to answer her or to even look at her with a shock expression. All he knew was that the darkness was pulling at him.

Ripping him apart.

A scream of agony rushed from his throat.

* * *

He woke up in cold sweat, his eyes wide as he sprinted up to sit in bed and held his head in his hands. Tears pooled from his eyes. He could actually feel the dryness of his throat beginning to suffocate him. In the corner of his eye, he saw a lamp flicker on and he knew that he had woken up Lisa. But at this point of time, he didn't really care. All he cared about was the dream he had. The dream of Alex.

"Dean." Lisa whispered, settling her soft hand on his shoulder, knowing that she could feel his muscles tightening. "Was it another nightmare?" She sounded so concerned that it made him grab hold of her and pull her to him, hugging her securely to his chest. Her form didn't fit with his, not like _hers_. Her hands were too soft, when _hers_ were aged with callouses and scars. Her hair wasn't as soft as _hers_. Lisa wasn't _her_.

"I love you." He whispered to her. _No I don't._ "I love you so much." _She_ was dead, he knew he should move on, but-

Her brown eyes –three shades lighter than _hers_– closed and a loving smile graced her lips. "I love you too."

_I don't love you. I can't..._

_...Because you're not her..._

_No one can ever be her._

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**0.0 This came out of no where, like no joke. I just pulled it out my ass, it seems.**

**Anyways~ Hoped you enjoyed ^.^**


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